Rexquisite
by Carmenian
Summary: I'm planning for this to be more of a story about the Group, however the inciting force occurs when Foster is contacted by a desperate children's home when they lose power in a snowstorm.
1. Duty

The fall had been long and beautiful, with more vibrant leaves than they had had in several years. Until early November, the trees had slowly shed their dying fire onto the streets and the whole city had been alight. It could not last forever, however, and once the trees were bare, the weather had hovered for a while between fall and winter, consisting mostly of dry, biting winds. It seemed to have made up its mind now. It had snowed lightly over night but over the course of the morning, the weather had gradually snowballed into a silent but steady snowfall. It leant a certain feeling of isolation and self-enclosure to the office. Inside was warm and bright and work chugged along despite the cozy and relaxed atmosphere. Ria rather found it fostered the inclination to curl up with a warm drink. Maybe in the lounge. Maybe together. Her mind wandered along the train of thought as her eyes slipped idly over an open case file, taking in very little. The scene expanded. Loker would be showing Emily some trick, botching it under Lightman's critical gaze. They would laugh and he would give a flustered smile and try to defend his ability. Foster would look up from her book and cast a disapproving glance at Lightman, turning the tables and making everyone grin triumphantly at the boss. Maybe they would even have Ava. Maybe she would get off school for the holidays and get to come home. She would be sitting at Foster's feet, facing Ria. She'd ask to try the trick herself - and succeed on the first try. Lightman would snort his approval and make some comment about Ava that would make her beam in a such way that even Loker would smile. It wasn't quite family but it fit in a way that no holiday scene from Ria's life ever had. Maybe she should contact the school and find out what their holiday policy was. Her eyes had drifted off the edge of the page and were down staring dazedly off into space. Ugh. She tossed the folder down on her desk. There was no way she was getting any work done like this. Maybe some coffee would help.

As she passed the lab on her way to the break room, Ria paused, then, swinging an arm around the doorframe, poked her head in. "Hey Loker, you wanna coffee?"

Loker was leaning back relaxedly in his chair, a cup of coffee already in his hands and a muffin sitting on a napkin at his elbow to boot. "Mm, Torres, come have a look at this." He gestured to the screen.

Ria huffed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, of course it slipped your mind to grab me some."

He gave her an unapologetic head-tilt shoulder-shrug and then turned back to the screen. Sighing, she pulled up a chair, expecting to see an interview or a snippet of film. Instead, the screen was divided into four squares, each showing an off-centered aerial view of a section of the office. The top right showed the front desk while the other three showed sections of the hallways. Security cameras. In the bottom left, the two bosses were standing facing each other, Lightman's back was turned but irritation was plain on Foster's face, which was fully visible.

"Mom and Dad are fighting." Loker smirked.

Ria leaned forward and picked a sizeable chunk out of her colleague's muffin. Shoving in her mouth, she asked "What about?"

Loker frowned at her thievery. "Not sure. Money, maybe?"

She snorted, reaching for more muffin. "Yeah, or the Zoe case he took on. Hey!"

He had slapped her hand away. "Get your own!"

They turned their attention back to the screen. Now Lightman was talking, shifting his weight back and forth between his two feet, shoulders sloping up and down like an erratic teeter-totter. Foster's arms were crossed and she was listening with impatience. After a moment, she dramatically lifted her chin and rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"See that? Frustration, anger, worry. I bet it's gambling." said Ria through another mouthful.

Loker raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. "Maybe." Lightman was now sidling up into Foster's space, an index finger jabbing at the air by her face. Foster's chin was tipped, humoring him. She averted her eyes and gave a short derisive laugh, which was lost by the soundless feed. "He's being unreasonable." Loker stated. "My money's on Emily."

"Mm, she's too angry. He's done something." She popped some more muffin into her mouth.

Loker looked at his colleague with disgust, then picked up the muffin by the napkin and snarkily dropped it into her lap. "Take it, why don't you?"

"If you insist."

"Oh!" Loker pointed to the screen, leaning forwards in his seat. "Did you see that?"

Ria looked up from picking muffin crumbs off of her shirt. "Ooh! The Foster sneer!"

"Contempt! You may have been right, he's definitely done something. Could still be Emily, though."

"If it is, he's gone too far. On Foster, I mean." She reached for his coffee. He snatched the mug away. "What? I need something to wash down the muffin."

"Get your own!"

Moodily, she went back to the crumbs, muttering.

"You think he said something about her not being a mother?" Loker mused, sipping from his mug.

Ria shook her head. "No pain, no surprise. Would've seen both if he had."

"Or she'd've punched him."

"Foster?" She snorted. "Yeah right."

"You're right, wishful thinking." He took another drag of coffee.

On the screen, the joint heads of the Group were moving; Lightman evading in his repulsively confident swagger and Foster responding with graceful strides aimed to block him. They simultaneously moved out of one square and into another, the angle different this time.

Ria took a reflective bite of muffin. "He's trying to leave but she isn't done. Could be about that book he's supposed to be writing."

Loker picked up a pencil from his desk and twirled it in his fingers. "That counts as finances."

"Or making enemies." She pointed out.

"Mm, true. He hasn't been playing nice with the FBI lately."

Ria eyed the coffee mug again, then sighed. She flopped back in her chair. "Didn't he just turn down a bunch of lectures they wanted him to do?"

Loker scratched the back of his neck. "Not quite. He just neglected to respond." He yawned.

"Oh look," Ria laughed, "here comes Reynolds."

They could see the agent walking through one of the frames, phone to his ear. He stopped soon, though, apparently having heard the argument over his conversation. He glanced cautiously out of the frame, then said something into the phone and ran a hand over his scalp. Loker laughed. "Poor guy, not exactly what he signed up for."

Reynolds rubbed the hand over his face and then, with a haggard expression, turned and headed back down the hallway the way he'd come. He disappeared from the screen and entered the lab a moment later, phone still to his ear. Ria smirked and scooted over so that he could pull up a chair.

"Yes, Sir. Yes, I'll handle it." He looked at his phone with reproach before putting it in his back pocket. "Would you two believe that your loony of a boss had the nerve to hack into my account on the FBI database and run a check on his daughter's boyfriend?"

Ria bent double and gave a snort of laughter. Loker dropped his pencil and smirked. "Yes, actually. That sounds exactly like him." He turned to his colleague, a gloating grin on his face and an upturned hand held open to her. "Torres, I believe that counts as Emily."

She grumbled but nevertheless reached into her jacket pocket and fished around for her wallet. She extracted a five dollar bill and grudgingly handed it to him.

Reynolds sighed, running a hand over his head once more, then pulled a wheelie chair over from one of the desks and flopped back into it. "What're we watching?"

All eyes turned back to the screen, which was now empty.

"Where'd they go?"

"Snooping, are we?" Three heads whipped around to see Lightman standing in the doorway, disinterest rather than anger showing on his face.

* * *

Gillian sighed and rolled her chair closer to her desk. Her partner was impossible. One day, his insolence would surely drive the company into the ground; but, insisted Gillian inwardly, today was not that day. As if to prove that to herself, she reached decisively across her immaculate desk and picked up a completed case file. There was always work to be done, particularly the type of administrative work that Cal abhorred and therefore let fall on her. This case, a vetting of applicants for positions at a home security company, had been completed two and a half weeks ago. She had found the file sitting under a half-filled sudoku and a used mug on Cal's desk. The billing still needed to be sent and the report written up to be put on file in the Group's database. Well, on with it then. Gillian took a sip of tea and called up the Group's standard invoice form. There was a comfortable air about the office today and she found it easy to slip into her work. In fact, Gillian's pleasant focus was such that when her cellphone rang she answered it without so much as a glance at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hello, may I please speak with Dr. Gillian Foster?"

Gillian hummed, dropping her gaze from the computer screen to listen. "This is she."

"Good afternoon, Dr. Foster. This is Annemarie calling from the Capital Children's Home." It was certainly nothing, surely just another case. Still, she felt her pulse quicken in her chest. Composedly, she waited.

There was a pause. Gillian could hear the woman breathing on the other end. "I'm deeply sorry for your experience with the Delaware Foster and Adoption Agency the year before last… I can't imagine what that must have been like for you and your husband." A strange way to present a case. Gillian took an anguished breath and held it. Annemarie continued. "I understand that we're in no position to ask favours from you, of all people, and I am so sorry for this. Due to the weather, we've lost power in our facility. The back-up generators aren't working and we don't know how long it'll be before we have power again. We're trying to find places for the children to stay until then but of course, we already have as many as possible in foster homes. You and your husband passed every step of the adoption vetting process with flying colours and while I know that you aren't registered as foster parents, we hoped that you might consider taking a child for a day or two."

Not a case then. No. It took a moment for her to realize that now it was her turn to talk. Her mouth was dry and suddenly she felt what her mother has always called 'sad throat'. All she could think to say was: "I'm not married anymore."

It sounded so hollow. Why was that what she had said?

On the other end, Annemarie paused. "I'm sorry to hear that, Dr. Foster."

It was as if Gillian's mind had been left behind but now it whizzed forwards to catch up. She cleared her throat. "Does that matter?"

"Excuse me?"

"Does it matter that I'm not married anymore? Does that make a difference?"

"In your eligibility to foster? Not at all, we have plenty of single foster parents."

Gillian's mind skimmed over the other implications. "My house isn't baby proofed. I don't have a crib set up."

"Don't worry about any of that, ma'am. Most of our children are older."

"Yes, yes, I think that would be best. I don't have any baby things" She steeled her voice, determined to remain poised.

"Dr. Foster, would you be willing to take in a child for a day or two?"

Had she not answered that yet? "Yes, of course. The poor children! What do I need to do?" Gillian reached across her desk for a pad of paper and a pen.

"Thank you, thank you Dr. Foster. I just need to refer to the placement executive and get the paperwork. Are you able to come to City Hall by six o'clock to fill out the forms and pick up the child?"

She nodded, scrawling the place and timings on her notepad. "Absolutely, how soon could you have me?"

"We've already started transfers here. Anytime between now and six will do."

"Okay, and what will I need to bring?"

"We require two pieces of photo identification and your permission for us to view your medical records."

"Of course, check them."

Annemarie paused. "Can I answer any more questions, Dr. Foster?"

Gillian collected her thoughts. "Do I need a carseat?"

She could hear the smile in the woman's voice when she answered "We can provide you with one."

* * *

In the Lab, Loker cleared his throat. "Routine check of the security cameras." Next to him, Ria sniggered into her muffin, quickly catching her mistake and trying to play it off as a sudden cough.

"Nice try, mate." Lightman wrinkled his nose. "Torres," he waved a finger in the air, as if its arbitrary path would help him to pin down the right phrasing for his particular sentiment. "Pathetic."

The pair watched warily but instead of berating them, Lightman just shrugged and tipped Loker out of his chair, proceeding to sit down in his place. "What're we watching, then?"

Loker cast his boss a reproachful glare but said nothing. Ria looked down to hide her expression. Lightman looked around at his employees, then back at the screen, recognizing a section of hallway. "Ah, did you enjoy watching Foster get her knickers all in a twist over my personal habits?"

"Gambling! I knew it!" cried Ria, giving Loker a rough poke in the ribs. "Cough up!"

"Oi!" Lightman scowled as his tech guy pulled a ten out of his back pocket and deposited it into Ria's upturned palm. "You two make a habit of profiting on my pain?"

Reynolds had previously been ignoring the spat but this was too much. "Maybe you should think before you act. Cause yourself less pain that way, not to mention others." he muttered.

Cal cast the agent an unconcerned glance. "Been drinking the Foster Kool-Aid, have we? What's next? You gonna start wearing dresses and nagging me about paperwork?"

"Hey, don't push me. I'm about this close to having your ass hauled off to the FBI headquarters for a nice chat about why it's wrong to hack into our database." He shook a hand at Lightman, his thumb and index finger almost touching.

Cal fixed his fingers with an analytic stare. "Well I reckon that's fair." He turned back to his employees, leaving Reynolds to huff in exasperation. "Why're you two allowed to gamble anyways? I'm the boss around here!"

Lightman's protégée patted her newly deeper jacket pocket with a cheeky grin. "I'd take that up with Foster if I were you."

"Although maybe not just now." Loker pointed to the screen. Doctor Foster had just appeared in the farthest hallway frame, walking purposefully towards the front desk. She was wearing her coat and rifling through her purse as if for her car keys. It was barely past three and Foster never left early. Most disconcerting, however, was that when she lifted her face, her practiced expression of unreadable impassivity seemed to be peeling at the edges, glimmers of determination and excitement slipping through.

"Bloody hell." In an instant, Lightman was out the door and jogging down the hall.

In a matter of moments he caught up to Gillian and had fallen into step beside her. "Going somewhere?" He reached an arm around her waist, waiting agitatedly for her to respond.

Foster looked at him and he saw the continued hints of emotion dance around her face. He tightened his grip on her, unnerved. His partner nodded. "Yes, sorry, I meant to tell you. I'm taking the rest of the day off."

Cal quickly reeled in his gape. "That's not like you." He mused conversationally. It was also unlike her to continue to fish around in her purse instead of wrapping her arm around his back. He stopped walking, turning so that he was facing her, blocking her way. "Any reason in particular?"

She looked up properly now, looked into his face. Her hands on her purse stilled, then dropped it entirely. "Yes, actually."

Cal gave an uncomfortable smile. "Well tell us, then."

His partner fixed him with a slightly amused look and cocked her head in a way that told him quite clearly that she was still irked with him about earlier.

"Hell, have I finally driven you of the deep end? Can't stand one more minute in here so you're finally giving in to the government's wooing? Going back to work at the Pentagon, are we?"

She scoffed. "They'd have to do a lot better than the Pentagon, don't you think?"

He grinned, "Ah, so you're not leaving me?"

"No, we're not quite there yet." She gave him the kind of warm smile that told him it would take much more than another argument for them to be separated. Returning her attention to her purse and sidestepping, she forced him to fall back into step beside her. He slipped his arm back around her waist as she spoke. "I've actually just received a call from a Children's Home. They've lost power in the storm and they're scrambling for foster homes for the children there. I've agreed to host one of them for the weekend." There was a nonchalance in her voice that piqued his attention.

"You're what?"

"Taking in a foster child. It's just for the weekend and goodness knows the children have to go somewhere." Again the carefully casual tone. It took a great deal more self control to bite his tongue than Cal had believed himself to possess. His racing mind helped minutely. He wasn't sure what he would have said in any case. This seems impulsive? You're supposed to be the sensible one? She was the sensible one. To him this did not seem like a sensible thing to do but then, he couldn't really think what was wrong with the idea. These children needed people to take care of them and Gillian had some intrinsic need to nurture. Maybe… it was sensible? He nodded slowly. "Do you want me to come with you?"

She shook her head. "Thank you but I think I'd better do this myself. I've been cleared for the adoption process and you haven't been. I just don't want to overcomplicate things once I'm there."

"What does this have to do with the adoptions process?" Was she planning to adopt again?"

"Nothing, it's just a transferrable vetting process."

He nodded again, as if the bobbing movement of his head would somehow help him to understand what was going on. "Right. Well you call me if you need anything. Anything, you hear me?"

She cocked her head and smiled a little. "Yeah, of course. Thank you, Cal."

He shrugged, "And you call me once the little bugger's asleep, yeah? Tell me how it went?"

She gave an exasperated smile. "Naturally. Goodbye, Cal."

"Right." Tugging her in with the arm that was still wrapped around her, Cal pressed a prickly kiss to her soft cheek, getting a soft kiss on his prickly cheek in return.

"Drive safe, love!" He called after her as she headed for the door, "And don't you forget to call!"


	2. Fundamentals

The plain white sheets were uninviting and would have to go. Gillian gazed scrutinizingly around her spare room. The walls were the same beige as they had been when she had moved in two months earlier following her divorce. There wasn't much she could do about that and beige wasn't really all that bad. There was no art on the walls of this room and the only furniture apart from the bed was a plain chest of drawers and a rocking chair that her father had carved when they had first gotten Sophie. She stripped the bed, folded the unused sheets and replaced them in the linen closet. The problem was more in finding sheets that would be welcoming to a child. Something colourful. Perusing the closet, she found a pale pink fitted sheet, a green flat sheet, one yellow pillowcase with a pattern of dots and a stuffy blue floral pillowcase that probably wouldn't look too bad with the rest of the mismatched sheets. She tried to focus on the task at hand and not get too nervous or excited, instead enjoying the soft feel of the fabric and the satisfaction that came from the neat bed. Studying the finished product, Gillian hesitated. The sheets were fine but the best she'd been able to do for the comforter cover was a rich, chocolatey brown. It seemed like too large an expanse of dark for a child. After a few moments of worrying, Gillian went to her own room and took the knit blanket from the foot of her bed. This she lay unevenly across the end of the guest bed. This time when she stood back to examine her handiwork, Gillian was satisfied. Next, she checked the fridge. It seemed pretty well stocked, and, not knowing what this child would like, Gillian decided it best to leave it be. Feeling unprepared but nonetheless having nothing else to fuss over, Gillian took her passport out of her office desk, slipped her driver's licence inside, put both into a pocket in her purse and, with one final visual sweep of her house, left for City Hall.

* * *

Annemarie Jackson had worked as a secretary with the Capital Children's Home for eight years now. It was safe to say that, where children were concerned, there would always be odd crises but this was something entirely new. In an effort to keep the children warm, all those who had not yet been placed in short-term foster homes had been bussed to City Hall and were now having playtime in the upstairs ballroom. The administrative staff and anyone else who could be spared had set up camp in an available board room on the main level. There were several taped-off sections of desk, each one manned by a staff member and each one with an extra chair for the short-term foster parents. It was a quarter past four and borderline mayhem; several stations were occupied by people filling out forms and anyone who wasn't busy with foster parents on the phone trying to find accommodations for the children. Annemarie sighed. It was days like these that made her wonder whether her mother had had a point with all her nonsense about working for a nice law firm or the like. It would certainly be quieter.

"Excuse me?"

Annemarie looked up. Before her stood a woman in her mid thirties with short, straight hair, blue eyes and fine bone structure. She wore a long lapelled coat unzipped to reveal a professional-looking dress underneath. The woman offered her hand with a friendly smile. "I'm Dr. Gillian Foster. I was called earlier."

"Of course. Thank you so much for coming." Annemarie stood and shook the woman's hand, then gestured to the empty seat beside her own. "Please, sit."

Dr. Foster obligingly settled herself in the chair, then opened her purse and pulled out a passport and a card. "I have my IDs."

"Excellent, thank you for bringing those." Annemarie was thumbing through the stack of files in the corner of her taped-off section. She found what she was looking for and pulled out a folder. "Foster, here we are." She primly opened the file and pulled out several sheets, all of which were already mostly complete. "I've already filled out as much as I can from your file, so if you could check these and make sure that everything is correct that just leaves the last few sections and the signatures."

Dr. Foster nodded, taking the offered pen with a quiet "Thank you." and turning her attention to the pages.

* * *

It took forty-five minutes to get through all the paperwork. Finally, Gillian signed the last page and looked up to see the nice childcare worker, Annemarie, pulling a file out from one of the stacks on her desk. She smiled kindly. "You've been paired with our Miss Lucy Howard. She's four years old and has been with us since she was relinquished at birth. She had a family lined up but their son was diagnosed with leukaemia shortly before her birth and so they had to give her up. She's lived at our facilities and in short-term foster homes ever since. She has some challenges with trust and attachment but she's not… difficult." Annemarie's fingertip slid down the page, skimming for facts. "There was also... a house fire, so she sometimes has nightmares."

Gillian was nodding, listening intently. All of this she should be able to handle, at least for the weekend.

"Lucy's been in junior kindergarten since September and though she's quiet she's progressing well." The woman grazed the file again and then, seemingly finished, looked up at Gillian. "Do you have any questions?"

She had a thousand, more, but the one that came out was "Who named her?"

Annemarie smiled and folded her hands before her. "I remember, I was the one who went to pick her up. When I got to the nursery, there was this nurse holding her. She held this tiny, sleeping baby and told me about how the hospital had been swamped with H1N1 patients and there had been this terrible car wreck overnight; and then, she said, there was this moment of calm and a new day broke with the birth of this little girl who was all alone in the world. She was born smiling. The nurse said that it used to be a custom to give the name Lucy to girls born at dawn, it means light, you see." She gave a sad sort of smile and her eyes drifted to the side in memory. "Howard was the name of the hospital."

There was a pause as both seemed to be contemplating the story, then Annemarie hesitantly offered: "If that's everything, I can bring you to meet her now."

Gillian took a deep breath, smiled and gathered her things. "Yes, please."

She was led out of the small, warm room and up the main staircase. On the second floor they took a left and entered what must usually be used as some sort of concert hall. Only it wasn't being used as a concert hall. Inside it was loud and full of children of all ages. There were a few play pens set up, some young children colouring nearby, along the walls, children were reading, playing clapping games, dozing against pillars. In the centre of the room, two children spun a jump rope while a line of their peers took turns skipping. Adults milled about, checking and soothing and scolding. Gillian's eyes swept over the masses of children, wondering which one would be coming home with her. She followed Annemarie up to one of the staff members.

"Connor, this is Dr. Foster, who will be taking Lucy in for the time being." She smiled and shook the man's hand, he had a firm grip and his hand was warm and dry.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. If you'll follow me?"

Gillian nodded, gingerly stepping around running children as the man, Connor, led her through the hall. Unable to suppress it, Gillian's innery psychologist gazed around the room. Most of the children were playing and wore expressions of enjoyment. From their dispersion throughout the hall, it seemed as though most of the children were comfortable enough in new places, suggesting a certain degree of self-assurance. These were well looked-after children. They were moving towards the colouring area, where several tables were pushed together and strewn with paper, crayons and markers. Intending to appear open and relaxed when she met Lucy, Gillian shrugged off her tailored coat and folded it, along with her scarf, over hier arm.

A little boy ran up to Connor and threw his arms around the man's leg. "Whoa! Jason!" Connor pretended to stumble sideways and the little boy shrieked with laughter. Gillian laughed. The staff here seemed to be well in tune with the needs of their charges, that was a good sign. Connor grinned back at her, then scooped the tot up into the air, settling him against his chest. Jason threw his head back and giggled wildly, as if this were the best thing in the world. The man holding him glanced back at Gillian with a sharing grin, then bounced the boy gently. "Alright, Superman, do you think you can help me?"

The boy's big, mirth-filled brown eyes rolled up to look at Connor and his laughter took on a sighing sound as he quieted, listening.

"I'm looking for Lucy, have you seen her?"

Gillian's heart warmed a little as the tiny boy nodded and pointed a chubby finger down the table. "See's over dere." he lisped.

"Ah, I see her." Connor's voice became jestingly formal. "Thank you very much, kind sir, for your aid." He gave a mock salute with one hand and placed the laughing boy back on the ground, where he quickly scrambled away, towards a group of boys building something with foam blocks. Connor turned to Gillian but her gaze had followed Jason's gesture and landed on a little girl sitting by herself near the end of the craft tables. "Is that her?"

Connor nodded, then looked knowingly back at her "If you'd like to sit with her for a little while and get acquainted, I can leave you to it." he offered.

She should say something nice about how good he was with the kids but she couldn't wait. "Thank you" would have to suffice. The look on Connor's face told her it did and, as promised, he turned from her, leaving her to approach the little girl.

Lucy's face was down, focusing on her artwork. She was dressed in a clean, if faded and slightly overlarge, brown sweatshirt and a pair of green jersey pants. Dark red curls were drawn away from her face into a low ponytail. Gillian took a measured breath.

She approached the little girl from the side, not wanting to startle her. She summoned her best comforting smile. "Lucy?"


	3. Desideratum

With a measured swoop of the orange crayon, Lucy blessed the meerkat with a tail. Short uneven ticks of the wax baton made stripes across it. It was a nice picture, the ends of the oval for the belly almost touched, even. Suddenly she heard her name.

Lucy looked up. The lady standing there was pretty and Lucy didn't recognize her. Her dress was pink. She smiled like she wanted to make someone happy. When she spoke, her voice was soft. "Hi there, I'm Gillian. May I sit with you?" The hand that she laid expectantly on the back of the chair next to Lucy's looked soft too.

Lucy nodded.

The lady pulled out the chair and sat down. She put her purse and her coat down on her lap. Lucy watched the lady and the lady looked back at her in a way that she didn't quite understand. Lucy reached for the green crayon and went back to her picture. The orange meerkat was going to have a green friend.

"What are you drawing?" The lady really sounded interested.

Lucy didn't look up from her drawing this time. "The meerkats. They live on an iceberg." She drew a thick line for the green meerkat's tail.

The lady leaned in a little to see Lucy's drawing. "Oh, I see. Are the meerkats friends?"

Lucy nodded. "Yes, and they go to school every single day. Even weekends. Except for Tuesday." A wobbly blue line made the iceberg.

"What do they do on Tuesday, then?"

"Go to Maryland." She reached for the yellow.

The lady smiled. She had a pretty smile. Lucy pushed a stray curl out of her eyes.

The lady was looking at her in that way again.

"What do the meerkats do in Maryland?"

Lucy tipped her head. "They go to the library and get books with lots of pictures, then they have a picnic and read their books to each other."

"That sounds lovely. They must be good at reading." The lady's hair touched the bottom of her neck just a bit. It was light and it looked feathery, like it would be nice to touch.

Lucy nodded.

"What else do the meerkats like to do?"

Lucy swung her legs under the table. "They like to see the boats that bring food to the iceberg." She pointed to the wiggly purple boats. There were some pill-shaped yellow outlines in the middle of each. "This is the corn that the meerkats like to eat."

The lady was nodding, looking at the picture. Then she smiled at Lucy. "You know, Lucy, I like to look up at night and see the stars. The meerkats must have a great view of the stars from their iceberg. Do they ever look at them?"

Lucy thought about it. The meerkats could maybe sometimes stay up late to see the stars. She nodded.

"Don't the meerkats need coats to live on the iceberg?" asked the lady.

Lucy grinned. "No, silly! Meerkats don't wear coats!"

This seemed to make the lady very happy. Her eyes got big and bright and she opened her mouth like she was pretending to be surprised. "How do they stay warm, then?"

Lucy looked at her. She seemed soft and nice. She smelled good, too. "Maybe the meerkats could wear socks and mittens." She reasoned. "But only when it's very cold."

"Ahh, I see." The lady nodded gravely.

Lucy reached for the brown crayon and coloured socks and mittens onto the meerkats.

The lady was looking at her again, but this time like she wanted to say something. Lucy put down the crayon.

The lady turned a bit and leaned over her purse to be a little closer. "Lucy," she said, "You know that the reason all of you are here is because there is no power at the centre, right?"

Lucy nodded. Kathleen had said so when they had been packing Lucy's bag together.

The lady nodded too. "I would like very much for you to come a stay with me for a few days while they get the centre back in order." She paused. Lucy looked into the lady's face. She seemed so nice, so soft, so warm. She looked like she really did want Lucy to stay with her.

"What do you think?" The lady looked a little nervous now. Lucy didn't want to make her sad. Hesitantly, Lucy nodded.

* * *

Gillian's heart leapt. The child was positively enchanting, with her studious evaluation of the woman's face and person at every word she spoke and the way that her calculated responses melted into characteristically childlike amusement when she was surprised. Checking her beaming smile so as not to unnerve the little girl, Gillian stilled herself and laid a hand gently on the table next to Lucy's picture. "Would you like to stay here for a bit and keep drawing?" She didn't want to jerk the girl too quickly into the process of leaving.

Lucy assessed her handiwork, then looked back at Gillian with scrutiny that seemed out of place on the face of a five-year-old. Seemingly satisfied with whatever she found in her new acquaintance's face, Lucy visibly made up her mind and, with a sheepish smile, declared: "It's done."

So they were leaving. Gillian smiled encouragingly. "Well then let's bring it with us. Do you have a coat and a bag?"

"Yes, they're on the wall."

"Shall we go and get them?"

Lucy nodded and climbed down from her seat at the table, reaching back up for her drawing once she was on her feet. Gillian followed the child across the far end of the hall to where a long line of gear was piled against the wall. Lucy's was a worn blue backpack with a small winter coat draped over it. The little girl placed her artwork on the ground before reaching for the coat. Gillian's fingers itched to bundle this child up against the cold but, not knowing Lucy's limits, asked only "Can I help you?"

Again there was the analytic expression. Then Lucy seemed to make up her mind and nodded. Gillian crouched and gave a bright smile as she held up the coat for Lucy to slip her arms into. "Do you have a scarf and hat?"

Reaching into a coat pocket, Lucy produced a woollen hat and a pair of mittens but there was no scarf to be found.

Gillian arranged her face into a look a mock despair. "Well that just will not do." She smiled confidentially at the little girl, then unwound her own scarf from around her neck. "Here, why don't you borrow this for the time being?"

Lucy looked shyly at the colourful scarf but when Gillian had wrapped it snugly around her neck she looked up and quietly said "Thank you."

Gillian slid her hands down the little girl's shoulders. "You're very welcome." Resisting the urge to sweep the child into her arms, Gillian zipped up Lucy's coat, held open the mittens for her little hands and tugged the hat securely over the russet curls before standing and reaching for Lucy's bag. "Let's get you home, shall we?"

* * *

As promised, Annemarie had sent someone to secure a five-points of contact car seat into Gillian's car. "Here we are!" Gillian smiled, gesturing to the car. Now that they we outside in the parking lot, Lucy had quieted a little, her mouth closed and eyes wide open, gazing intently at the car. Gillian fished her keys out of her purse. "Tell you what," she crouched before the little girl, "do you like pressing buttons?"

The big eyes were watching her now. There was a beat of stillness, then a wary nod. Gillian smiled reassuringly, then opened her palm to show Lucy the car keys. "I hoped you would. Do you see the little open lock button?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to push that button for me?"

Lucy's eyes shifted back up to Gillian's. The seemed to be examining her face again but this time it was barely a moment before a little smile crept onto the tiny girl's face. She nodded shyly.

Gillian's lips quirked up. "There's something else you have to know, though." She added conspiratorially. She waited a second to draw Lucy in, pretending to look around the parking lot to make sure they weren't being overheard. "You have to point the key at the car like a magic wand, do you think you can do that?"

Lucy's smile grew, showing rows of short baby teeth beyond it. "Yes." Her voice was firm.

Gillian's legs were getting sore from crouching but she couldn't have cared less. She grinned and laid her free hand gently on the girl's elbow. "Go for it."

With far less hesitation than before, Lucy reached out and took the key from Gillian's open hand. Looking back at the woman one more time for reassurance, she dramatically straightened her entire arm so the the key was almost touching the car. With a proud grin, she pressed down on the button with a mittened thumb. Immediately there was a beeping from the car. The little girl gave a tiny jump of surprise and turned happily back to Gillian, who was beaming. "Well done, Lucy! Thank you!" she cheered, accepting the key from the child and straightening back up, ignoring her aching legs. Lucy's face lit up at the praise and stood patiently back as Gillian opened the door to the back seat.

First went the blue overnight bag, which Gillian lay on the opposite seat along with her purse. Then she turned back to her charge. Tipping her chin to the little girl, Gillian gestured to the car seat. "Your carriage awaits. Would you like a boost?"

Lucy nodded and reached up to take the offered hand, allowing herself to be guided into the seat.

Gillian's heart fluttered as the child took her hand so willingly, then sat back and regarded her as she buckled the various safety clips. She glanced a smile at the little girl as she tugged a strap snug. Lucy was gazing up at her with a giggly sort of smile. When all the straps were done up, Gillian lay her hands on either side of the girl's knees. "All buckled in!" she panted. Then, seeing a laugh growing in the little girl, she rolled her eyes up and drew the back of a mittened hand across her brow. "Phew! They could make these a little easier, don't you think?"

There was a burst of childish laughter and Lucy squirmed a little into the woman's touch on her knee. Gillian's heart leapt. The giggles died down to a contented sigh. It was clear that the child was tired. Gillian crinkled her nose. "Off we go!"


	4. Necessities

The drive home was only about a fifteen minute drive in normal conditions but with the snow and the acute awareness of what precious cargo was clipped, buckled and snapped into the car seat in the back, it took a full half hour to arrive at Gillian's townhouse. The ride had mostly consisted of comfortable silence. Gillian had assumed that Lucy must have fallen asleep but her periodic glances into the backseat showed that, though her eyelids became increasingly droopy, the little girl's gaze was removed from Gillian only to briefly glance out the window.

By the time they pulled into the driveway, Gillian was beginning to feel the infectious drowsiness of a child lulled by a long drive. Having parked the car, she twisted around in her seat to look at the little girl. Lucy's eyes were slits under slowly fluttering eyelashes. Her head rested against the side of the car seat and she was breathing with a soft snuffling noise. Gillian's heart melted. For a moment, the scene seemed suspended, the peaceful child, the warm car, the snow falling gently in the darkness outside. She could live in this moment, Gillian thought. Then, the girl seemed to hear the silence because she began to stir in her seat.

Gillian smiled. "Lucy, it's time to wake up." She murmured.

The little girl stretched and rubbed her eyes. Then she lay back in her seat and looked blearily at Gillian. At first her gaze was blank, then she seemed to wake up a little more and recognize the woman. She smiled. "We're here?"

"That's right, sweetheart." She smiled gently. "I'm gonna come around and unbuckle you, okay?"

Lucy nodded. Gillian unbuckled her seatbelt, removed the keys from the ignition and climbed out of the car. When she opened Lucy's door, the little girl seemed more alert, though she lay still as Gillian undid her straps. By the time she was holding onto Gillian's hands to hop out of the car, the child was once again all eyes. Gillian reached farther into the car to pull out Lucy's bag and her own purse, then closed the door. "Let's get you comfortable, shall we?" she said kindly, reaching down to place a reassuring hand on the child's shoulders. Lucy followed Gillian's lead cooperatively up the steps the the front door. There was something welcoming about the porch light being on as if waiting for them. The woman smiled down briefly at the little girl, then unlocked the door with a satisfying mechanical sound. She pushed it inwards and flipped on an inside light.

Gillian raised her arm towards the threshold. "Welcome home, Lucy." She gave an encouraging smile. Lucy hesitated for only a second, then stepped inside.

It took some minutes to get organized. Lucy again accepted Gillian's help with her outerwear but shyly hesitated when Gillian began to unwrap the scarf. The woman instantly froze, not wanting to cross a line. After a moment, Lucy, eyes fixed on her sock feet, sheepishly asked if she could keep it on. Gillian breathed a relieved sigh and gladly agreed. It was nearly twenty past six by the time Gillian had the little girl, colourful scarf draped over faded brown hoodie, seated at the kitchen table.

Standing across from where Lucy was sitting, Gillian exhaled. The little girl was back to the wide-eyed observance that she had shown at first with Gillian and then again in the car park. That was fine, though. In a new place it was to be expected, particularly with this child's history. Hopefully it would soon fade as she became more comfortable - and the first step to that was getting some food into her. She smiled at her charge."You must be famished! What do you say we get some dinner together and then we'll do the full tour?"

The mention of food seemed to give the girl pause but after a moment she responded. "Yes, please."

Gillian's heart warmed. Manners were becoming of anyone but in children especially so. She smiled openly and did a tiny ready-dance for the child's benefit. "So, what do you like to eat?"

Lucy giggled a little at the woman's silly dance, then shrugged a little. "I don't know."

"Well," Gillian made her voice comically firm, "Let's play a game then. I'll say two foods that we could have and you choose the one you like best, that way we can find the very best one. Does that sound good?"

Lucy nodded, giving a hesitant smile.

"Okay." Gillian opened the fridge. "First one, ready?"

"Yeah!" Lucy sat up further in her chair, watching her host.

"Alright, grilled cheese sandwiches or tuna sandwiches?

"Tuna sandwiches!"

"Good girl! Okay, the next one: tuna sandwiches or chicken?"

"Tuna sandwiches!"

"Tuna sandwiches or scrambled eggs?"

"Scrambled eggs!"

"Scrambled eggs or noodles?"

There was silence. Panicked, Gillian pulled her nose out of the fridge to look at Lucy, ready for a crisis. The little girl's face was frozen in a look of deliberation, she caught the woman's eye and gave a despairing sigh. "I love them both so much!"

Gillian laughed, feeling the tension evaporate from her body. "Well then," she smiled, "what do you say we have them together?"

Lucy's face lit up. "Like a noodle omelette?"

Gillian was about to say no, she had meant on the side, but the girl's expression stopped her. Only a child could be so delighted at the prospect of pasta in her scrambled eggs. Gillian grinned. "Why not?"

Lucy beamed. "This is going to be the best dinner ever!"

Gillian laughed and got out a pot. "Here, why don't we pull a chair up and you can give me a hand?"

The little girl smiled. "Really?"

"Of course! It'll be fun."

Lucy nodded and climbed down from her chair, then followed as Gillian guided it over to the counter. The little girl then lifted her arms to the woman and allowed Gillian to lift her onto the chair.

"How's that, sweetpea? Stable?" Gillian was reluctant to let go but Lucy nodded enthusiastically and gave her a thumbs up, making the woman's smile widen further.

"There's one more thing before we're ready." Gillian added. Under the child's watchful gaze, she opened a drawer and produced two identical cream-coloured aprons, each folded into a neat square. Lucy's eyes showed no signs of recognition. "What are they?" she asked.

Surprised, Gillian shook one out and held it up to her body. "It's called an apron. It's something that you can wear when you're cooking so that you don't get your clothes messy." She fixed the little girl with a secretive smile. "I'm a bit of a messy cook. Besides, they're fun to wear!"

Lucy's eyes brightened with the little fact. She smiled, "May I please wear one?"

Gillian smiled, "With manners like that you can wear anything you like!"

Lucy giggled and Gillian didn't need science to see the hints of pride in her face.

Gillian tied a knot in the neck loop so that the garment wouldn't hang too low, then lifted it over Lucy's head. She had to fold up the bottom part underneath the ties and then wrap the ties around the back and then forwards to tie in the front so that the apron would fit but the result was worth it. Lucy beamed and her smile only became brighter when Gillian put on the twin.

"Perfect!" Gillian declared. "We're all set."

The woman reached into a cupboard and pulled out a metal mixing bowl. Next came the egg carton from the fridge and a whisk from the baking drawer. Smiling, she placed them on the counter before the little girl. "Now, I have a special job for you. Do you know how to crack an egg?"

Lucy shook her head.

"Well that's no problem. Here, it's like this." Gillian made a show of selecting the exact right egg from the carton, then held it to the edge of the bowl. Smiling reassuringly at the child, she firmly struck the egg against the bowl's lip. "See? Then you just hold the egg over the bowl and open the two sides. Like this." She demonstrated as she spoke and Lucy watched studiously. Gillian gave the girl a moment, then lifted the egg carton. "Go ahead."

Lucy studied the eggs, then chose one and held it up as Gillian had done. Looking to the woman for assurance, she reached over the bowl and struck the egg against the edge. The eggshell was dented but the egg remained sealed. Lucy looked up at Gillian, unsure of what to do. The woman smiled kindly. "Try again, really whack it this time."

Lucy did as instructed. This time, the egg broke open. Seeing her success, the little girl grinned up at her host, who clapped. "Well done, Lucy!"

Returning her focus to the egg, Lucy gently peeled the two halves apart, letting the yolk and the white fall into the bowl alongside the first egg.

"Great job, sweetheart!" Gillian exclaimed. Lucy gave a beaming smile.

Gillian lifted the eggs again. "We're going to need two more, do you think you can do that?"

The little girl nodded enthusiastically.

"Okay, go for it!" Gillian watched her charge carefully select a second egg, then, sure of the child's safety, began to prepare the pasta. Once the water was on and Lucy had been warned of all stove-related dangers, Gillian pulled out a cutting board and opened the fridge. "How do we feel about broccoli, Lucy?"

The little girl was placing two eggshell halves in the bowl that Gillian had given her. "Good." She answered.

"We can cook some with the noodles and put it in the omelettes, what do you think?"

"That sounds yummy."

Gillian straightened. "You'll eat that?"

"Yes."

"My my, Lucy, you are quite the houseguest." Gillian praised. "Good manners, eats broccoli; my partner doesn't even do those things!"

Lucy giggled. It was such a joyful, innocent sound. Gillian grinned. This was something she could get used to.

Gillian pulled the broccoli out of the crisper and rinsed it in the sink. As the water ran, she glanced over to the little girl. Lucy was now opening the final egg. "Uh-oh."

Gillian's heart skipped a beat. Abandoning the broccoli, she was next to Lucy in an instant."What's wrong?"

Lucy's face had fallen. "I got some…" She tipped the bowl to look into it.

Gillian followed her gesture. In with the eggs was a fragment of shell. Was that it? It appeared to be. She wrapped an arm around the back of Lucy's chair and looked at the child teasingly. "Are you worrying about that tiddly bit of shell in there, sweetpea?"

Lucy quirked her head to the side to look at Gillian. Uncertainty was written all over her face.

"Lucy," Gillian smiled, "that little bit of shell is no problem. Look." She reached for a spoon from the dry rack and, leaning in to make sure that Lucy was watching, she fished out the offending debris. "See? All fixed!"

The little girl watched Gillian intently, then gave a tiny smile.

Gillian longed to stroke the child's cheek but didn't want to push when this girl had only just met her. Instead, she gave an examining look."Better?"

"Better." Lucy affirmed.

"Good. Now the next thing I need you to do is to use this whisk to stir the eggs until they're all one colour, does that make sense?"

"Yes, I can do that!"

"Just make sure that you hold the side of the bowl with one hand, okay? That way it won't spill."

"Okydoky!"

"Excellent! I'm very lucky to have such a skilled helper!" Gillian winked. The little girl grinned back at her and happily took the whisk.

After watching for a moment, Gillian returned to the broccoli. By the time it was chopped, the water was boiling so she dropped in the florets, followed closely by two servings of spaghetti noodles. Better they have leftovers than Lucy be hungry.

"Done!" Lucy called.

Smiling, Gillian approached to examine her handiwork. The eggs were well mixed, if still showing little clumps of yolk and albumen. "Good job, Lucy! These look great!"

The little girl smiled widely, her cheeks dimpling under their dusting of freckles and her blue eyes shining bright. "What are we gonna do with them?"

"Well," answered Gillian, "first we need to wait for the noodles and the broccoli to cook and then we're going to put them in a pan with the eggs and scramble them."

"Yum!"

"Exactly."

Lucy fidgeted a little, then looked back up at Gillian. "Do I get to help to scramble them?"

The hopeful way that the child looked at her would have been enough to melt even the coldest of hearts. "Of course! I need my helper, don't I?"

The joyful expression that warmed the little girl's face could make Gillian forget about anything and everything outside of that kitchen. Lucy nodded.

As it turned out, the noodle omelettes were a booming success. Lucy ate hers with all the delight of a child eating something odd with ketchup and Gillian found that, much as she enjoyed her own, she would have happily eaten sawdust if she could do so adjacent to such a gleeful little girl. For dessert, Gillian served them each a bowl of chocolate ice cream topped with rainbow sprinkles, which only added to the fun of the meal on both their parts. Once finished eating, Lucy declared that all she wanted to eat for the rest of her life was noodle omelettes and ice cream. Gillian laughed and Lucy, despite her best efforts, succumbed to a yawn.

Gillian checked her watch: seven-thirty-two. "Alright, sweetpea. Let's get you cleaned up and then we'll do a quick tour, how does that sound?"

"Good."

Gillian pulled a chair up to the sink and lifted Lucy up onto it. Turning the tap on, she checked the water until it was just pleasantly warm. Taking a pump of the spiced vanilla hand soap, she smiled warmly at Lucy. The little girl stuck her hands out under the water and allowed the woman to gently scrub them clean. She giggled.

Gillian laughed, "What's so funny, silly goose?"

Lucy smiled candidly, her eyes looking up into Gillian's. "That feels nice."

Gillian felt her heart flutter. This felt so right. Taking care of this child, being allowed to take care of her, felt exactly right.

Lucy was still looking at her. Gillian smiled and squeezed her hands gently. It was as she was drying the small hands through a fluffy hand towel that Lucy spoke up again. "Thank you for dinner."

Gillian looked up, surprised. She swallowed. "You're very welcome, Lucy." There was a beat of silence, then, with a deep breath, Gillian laid down the towel and pretended to inspect Lucy's hands. "All dry!" she declared.

Lucy giggled. Gillian smiled. "How about that tour now?"

The little girl nodded compliantly and, as the woman stood, she took hold of Gillian's hand.

* * *

The house was warm and light. Gillian had turned on all the lights for their tour. Gillian's hand was soft like she had thought it would be. They were in the upstairs bathroom. She focused her droopy eyes on the towel rack. Two fluffy pink towels were hanging there. Pink was nice. The rest of the bathroom was mostly white with only some soap on the sink that was coloured. It was the pump kind that looked like a little plastic bird that spit soap into your hand when you pushed on its head. Lucy liked the bird soap.

"…so if you need to use the washroom come and get me, no matter when, okay? We don't have a stepping stool right now and I don't want you to slip if you climb on the toilet." Gillian was looking at her. Lucy sniffed and lifted her head. Get Gillian to use the bathroom. Okay. She nodded vaguely. Gillian was smiling at her in the crinkly-forehead grown-up way. Like she had done something cute. Lucy lifted her chin quickly again, snapping her eyes open. This was important. The tour.

Gillian stood up and Lucy followed her out of the bathroom. There were three other doors upstairs. Two of them were open. Gillian pointed to the nearer one. "This is my bedroom." She crouched next to Lucy again and looked her in the eyes like grown-ups did when they were being serious. "If you need anything, no matter what time of night or day, you can always, always come and get me." She looked so soft. Her hair was feathery and looked as nice to touch as the little baby ducks that they had hatched from eggs at school. They couldn't touch the baby ducks because then the momma ducks wouldn't take care of them. That didn't seem right. Lucy's eyelids drooped. She forced them up. Gillian was still looking at her. Why was that again? Oh yes, because this was Gillian's room and if she needed Gillian this is where she must go, even at night. Lucy nodded.

Lucy followed Gillian to the last open door. This time they went in. Gillian turned the light on. The room was the same colour as most of the rest of the house but in this room there was a nice wooden chair next to a bed. Lucy smiled. This room had a window with purple curtains. Outside, she could see lots big snowflakes falling. Gillian lifted Lucy's hand a little. Lucy looked up. She had to rub her eyes a little to see Gillian properly.

"This is your room, Lucy. You can look around a bit if you'd like."

Lucy nodded. She eyed the room. The bed was very big, like it was meant for a grown-up. It was so wide. Lucy started towards it, not letting go of Gillian's hand. With her free fingers, she stroked the bed. It was soft. The blanket was brown like Bert, the dog that Connor sometimes brought for them to pet. It was softer than Bert, though. Lucy looked back at Gillian. The lady was watching her with a funny look that she didn't really understand. There was a cream-coloured blanket at the end of the bed. Lucy touched that. It was even softer than the bed blanket and kind of squishy. Lucy smiled. "I like this room." Gillian made a funny sound kind of like a laugh. "I've very glad to hear that."

Lucy yawned.

This time Gillian did laugh and it sounded happy and good. "Alright, Lucy, let's get you into some pyjamas."

Lucy nodded. Pyjamas sounded good. Gillian lay her blue bag down on the bed and Lucy climbed up beside it. Lucy unzipped the bag. Inside were some folded clothes. Lucy pulled them out. Gillian sat down on the edge of the bed and sorted through the things as Lucy pulled them out. First was a blue shirt with long sleeves, then a yellow shirt with little flowers all over it. The came her black pants, some plain socks, a pair of pink undies, a baggie with her toothbrush and toothpaste, more socks, a hairbrush, and finally a set of white pyjamas. "Here we go." Gillian said. She held them up. "Now, would you like some help or do you want to do it yourself?"

Lucy yawned again. She felt full and warm. "Help, please." Gillian nodded.

Lucy lifted her arms and made herself a little floppy while Gillian helped her out of her clothes. Gillian's hands were a little cold but they were soft and gentle. Once the pyjamas were on, Lucy lay on the bed and watched Gillian move everything from the bag into the dresser drawers. Lucy's clothes from today were in a pile on the bed. Lucy looked at them. Peaking out from the pile was a bit of colour. Lucy reached for it. It was the Gillian's scarf. Lucy pulled it out and snuggled it to her face. The fabric was fuzzy and it smelled good. Like Gillian. Lucy hugged it to her. At the bottom of the bag there was still the plush cat that Kathleen had packed for her. Cats weren't very nice though. This scarf was better. Maybe Gillian would let her keep it with her overnight. That would be really nice.

Gillian was coming back over to the bed. She smiled when she saw Lucy and she didn't say anything about the scarf. She sat on the edge of the bed and tapped Lucy's bare toes a little. Lucy giggled. It felt nice. Gillian laughed. Then she showed Lucy the toothbrush in her other hand. "What do you say we go and get you cleaned up a bit?"

"Okay." Lucy rolled over and climbed down off the bed. It was higher than the one at the centre. Lucy followed Gillian to the bathroom.

"Wet or dry?"

"Wet."

Lucy took the prepared toothbrush that Gillian held out to her and scrubbed her teeth. The toothpaste tasted like strawberry. "Done!" She held up the toothbrush for Gillian.

Gillian laughed. "Nice try. One more minute."

Lucy smiled sheepishly and stuck the toothbrush back into her mouth. Gillian checked her watch with a silly little flourish. Lucy laughed around the toothbrush in her mouth. Gillian was funny.

"Alright, now you're done. Do you want a boost?"

Lucy nodded. Gillian's arms came around her like a hug and she was lifted up to spit into the sink. Gillian gave her a little cup to rinse her mouth with too.

Once Lucy had pulled the hairbrush through her hair a few times and had used the toilet and Gillian had lifted her again to wash her hands, they headed back into Lucy's room.

Gillian pulled the covers down and Lucy crawled into them. She yawned and stretched and then curled up as Gillian fluffed the blankets a little and laid them over her. The covers were nice and heavy even though they were a bit cold. Gillian sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry that I don't have any children's books. We'll get some for tomorrow night, how does that sound?"

Lucy rubbed her face against the smooth pillow. She sighed. "Good." Through the slits between her heavy eyelids, Gillian looked like a blurry shape watching over her. That was nice. Lucy buried her nose in the scarf. It smelled good. She felt Gillian's hand run gently over her back. After a moment she realized that the lights were out. Her eyes drifted closed again. "Gillian?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

Lucy breathed slowly. "Sing?"

Lucy wasn't sure but there seemed to be a pause before the first few notes came. When they did they were low and sweet.

Lucy snuggled deeper into the bed. For a suspended moment there was the feel of the soft sheets and Gillian's hand on her back, the smell of the borrowed scarf, and the sound of the soft voice and then there was nothing.


	5. Unextraneous

Cal had arrived home to be greeted by a warm meal and a smiling daughter. Their meal had been accompanied by familiar conversation. She had done better than expected on a chemistry lab and was looking forward to a special presentation from the police department that was taking place the coming week in her law class. After dinner he had washed up while she retreated to her room, cellphone in hand, claiming homework with suspicious insistence. That left him to slink into his home office, where he slouched at his desk, staring aimlessly at the paperwork he had promised to complete and impatiently awaiting his partner's call. He had said nothing of the situation to Emily, he wasn't sure what Foster had in mind in terms of who should know and Emily would likely get overexcited. He remembered the horror that had been a fourteen-year-old Emily skipping into Gillian's office nearly two years earlier to inquire after the baby as well as the crisis that had ensued, of which he had been alerted by a tongue-tied Loker mere moments after shooing his bouncing daughter off, telling her that if she wanted to hear about Sophie, she could bloody well ask Gillian herself. He remembered all too clearly how the lanky intern had poked his pale and panicked face into Cal's office and stuttered "Uh - I - uh - I don't know what's going on - but - er - Doctor Foster's - there's - I think you should go!" Tearing down the hall, he had arrived in his partner's office expecting blood, to find his shell-shocked daughter, frozen like a deer in the headlights, watching in utter horror as Gillian Foster sobbed agonizingly over her desk. He had never seen her cry like that before and -to his knowledge- Emily had never seen her cry before at all. The office had been a dark place for a while after that. At home, Emily had skulked around, crying at intervals and eating almost nothing. After a week, Foster had sat down with his daughter and they had spoken privately. After that it hadn't been as bad on either front but the guilt he felt over the encounter had taken much longer to fade.

Shaking the memory, Cal fished his phone out from his back pocket. He wouldn't call, that might disrupt whatever was going on at Foster's, but he saw no harm in sending a quick text.

You'll be proud to know that I'm working through the god-awful paperwork you insist I do. The things I'll do for you! Can't wait to hear all about your guest. That little bugger should take up roulette; clearly they have good luck.

Not allowing himself to deliberate too much over the wording, Cal clicked 'send'. It was only a quarter past six, it would probably be a while before she got a chance to check her phone. With a sigh, Cal decided he'd best not make a liar of himself and turned his attention back to the form. God, how he hated paperwork.

It was a little over two hours later when his phone buzzed. He and Emily had curled up on the couch for a Friday night movie. At her insistence they were again watching the 2004 Phantom of the Opera. Not at all sorry for the distraction from the plight of the foolish chorus girl, Cal reached for his phone.

"Hey!" Emily whined, pulling the blanket back over herself.

"Sorry, love."

"No you're not" she grumbled, not removing her eyes from the screen where the rich boy was pledging his life to the soprano ballerina.

"Right." Cal snorted. His locked screen indicated a text from Foster. He entered his passcode and opened his messages.

If that's true you deserve a gold star. Though for someone who so likes to remind people of his name on the door, you've asked me to forge your signature a few too many times for me to inherently believe you on this one.

Cal sniggered. Emily elbowed him. "Dad! I'm trying to listen here!"

A second text soon followed the first.

I'm ready to talk whenever it's convenient.

Cal threw his share of the blanket off and stood. "Sorry to bail on part of this transcendent work of art, Em, but Gillian calls."

That got her attention. Tearing her eyes from the screen for the first time, the teen paused the movie. "Don't lie, Dad. I know you hate it but we watched the stupid cowboy movie last week so now it's my turn. Can I talk to Gill?"

Cal laughed and tousled his daughter's hair in just the way that bothered her. "Business first, darling, I'm sure Foster'd love to talk to you after. Now watch your sappy show."

Her eye-roll was nearly audible as he turned towards the kitchen, looking down at his cell. By the time he had typed out the short message, the warbling duet could once again be heard from the sitting room.

Ready whenever you are.

It was only a minute before his phone rang, Gillian's name as the caller ID. He answered on the first ring.

"Hey there, love. How's everything?" He plopped himself down in a kitchen chair.

Her voice was soft on the other end. "Hey. It's pretty good. I just finished washing up from dinner. We had pasta cooked into scrambled eggs." He could hear the beaming smile in her voice.

"What, like spaghetti omelettes? You must have loved that."

She gave a surprised laugh. "That's what she called them! Or almost, she said noodle omelettes."

"Ah, a kindred spirit. We should trade, I'll take the one who likes weird food and you can have the one who watches sappy musicals and has boyfriends."

"I thought I heard All I Ask of You, although I'd have thought that Phantom would be right up your alley, you know, spooky opera house, murders, lots of scantily clad dancers."

He snorted. "Right. And I suppose I have you to thank for Emily's love of musicals, then. At least it's not the Sound of bloody Music."

"Hey, I love that movie!" She laughed indignantly.

"Of course you do. Enough of that, though, tell me about your girl."

She sighed exultantly. "Well, her name is Lucy and she's four years old. She like meerkats and helping in the kitchen. She eats broccoli and she loved the noodle omelettes and the chocolate ice cream with sprinkles."

"You've already fed her sprinkles on chocolate? What is this, the sweet wooing?"

"Very nice, Cal. No, it's called dessert, some people like it."

"Yeah, and some people live for it."

"Hey!"

"Sorry, go on."

"Thank you. Well, she was a little shy at first but she's warmed up pretty well. She's sleeping now. God, Cal, she makes me so happy."

He smiled. "I'm glad to hear it, love."

He heard her sigh again. "I don't even want to go to sleep, I just want to lie here on the couch and exult!" She laughed softly. "Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself."

"No need to apologize, darling. It's nice to hear you so happy."

There was a pause. "I really am, Cal, I really am." She trailed off.

They sat in companionable silence for a moment. He could hear the rise and fall of dialogue coming from Em's movie in the living room and the sound of Gillian's breath on the line.

"I'm realizing how ill-equipped I am." That explained the quiet, then. The wheels were turning. Leave it to Foster to go for gleaming bliss to fretting in a matter of minutes. "You know, she can't reach the sinks at all, I don't have shampoo for her, Cal, I don't even have picture books!"

"Nonsense! I know for a fact you have that coffee table book of facial expressions, I gave it to you myself. Not to mention the one Alec's mother gave you of birds of North America. I'm sure she'd like those just fine!"

Her voice raised in the slightest, coloured with peeved amusement. "Cal! She doesn't even have a stuffed animal! She fell asleep with a scarf of mine."

At that Cal had to laugh. "Gillian, she must have a stuffed animal, she probably just preferred the scarf. I bet it smells like that perfume you wear."

She laughed gently too. "Ah well, I suppose a weekend with a scarf won't scar her for life. We're getting children's books, though. We'll go out tomorrow morning."

"No need for that. I've got a bunch of picture books around here that've been collecting dust since Em first got her hands on Anne of Green Gables, if it's alright with you, we'd be happy to come by and drop some off. That way you don't need to bother with an errand and we'd be delighted to meet your girl."

There was a pause. He heard her take a breath and hold it. "Cal," she started, "thank you, that's so thoughtful and kind. Would Emily be okay with that?"

"Are you kidding me? She'd love to get to see you, even just for a minute, and I think we both know that she'd be over the moon to know that you have a little kid hanging around."

"You didn't tell her?"

"I didn't think it was my place to say anything when we hadn't talked about who you want to know."

She breathed. "Thank you. You were absolutely right. I just don't want this to be a big… I mean, it's only for the weekend."

"I know, love."

Again she seemed to be thinking. "In that case, thank you, I think it would be lovely if we could borrow some of Emily's old books. I just want to go over it with Lucy beforehand so we don't overwhelm her. Is it alright if call in the morning to confirm?"

"Yea, yea, of course."

"Thank you, this means so much."

"Don't mention it, darling. You know to call if you need anything."

He heard her hum softly into the phone.

"Well, Em's here wanting to talk to you even over this opera nonsense, though preferring your voice to that of Christine Daae is something I can wholeheartedly understand. So if you don't object I can hand you over."

He heard her laugh softly. "I'd love to talk to Em. For the record, I think you'd actually like that movie if you gave it a chance."

"Right. And I think that Torres and Loker are gonna stop spying on us."

"What?"

"Here comes Em!" He pressed the phone against his chest, snickering. Now that would teach those two. "Em!" he called. The voices in the other room stopped. He listed out of the chair and sauntered into the sitting room, flopping down on the couch beside his daughter. "Gillian will speak to you now." He held out the phone.

The teenager pushed the blankets off and gave him a mischievous smile. "Would you look at that, Dad! You guys only talked for twenty minutes! Who'd 'a thunk it was possible?"

He tightened his grip on the phone and fixed her with a contemptuous glare. "Watch your lip, young lady, else you can write your darling Gillian a letter."

She grinned. "Oh, please, Dad. That would be more of a punishment for you! She'd nag you at work and I'd whine at home. There'd be no escape. Then you'd have Mom down your throat about being too lenient, and asking what kind of punishment not talking to Gill is supposed to be. Basically, your life would suck."

With a jesting scowl, he relaxed his grip on the mobile. "I should never have taught you to speak, regret it every day, I do."

His daughter smirked and took the phone with a triumphant grin. He could hear the beginning of their conversation as she headed up the stairs. "Yeah, he did…" she laughed, "That's what I said….I know….Why, thank you!"

Bloody hell, how was he supposed to have a fighting chance with these witches ganging up on him left, right and centre?


	6. Must

First there was feeling. Everything felt good. Everything was warm and comfy. She stretched out. The covers were curled up to her cheeks. They lay over her like fur. Lazily, she imagined that the blankets were her fur and that she was a big animal. A big furry animal. Like the ginormous woolly mammoth at the big museum. Sam G. from school had said that the woolly mammoth lived with the dinosaurs but she didn't think so. Miss Bea had said that the woolly mammoth was hunted by people. Dinosaurs lived before people. She twisted again. This time her eyes opened a bit. They felt sticky. She rubbed them, making a big grunt like she imagined a woolly mammoth might make. Her eyes felt lazy but she made them open with a blissful sigh. Being a mammoth was warm. She crinkled her forehead. The ceiling looked like cottage cheese. That wasn't right. The ceiling above her bed was spongey-looking squares. She blinked slowly. That's right, she remembered now. The centre had no lights. They had gotten on the bus and gone to that fancy building. In that big warm room. Then there was Gillian, her soft hands and her tidy house and her fuzzy scarf and her rainbow sprinkles. Lucy's tummy grumbled. She was hungry for a mammoth breakfast. Her nose twitched. There was a nice food smell. With another grunt, she wiggled up until she was sitting. In the morning light, the oatmeal-y walls of the room looked almost yellow. The smell was warm like something cooked. Lucy pushed off her woolly mammoth fur and climbed down out of the bed. Her hair felt tickly on her face. The floor was cool on her bare feet. Where was Gillian? Lucy's mouth tasted icky. She smacked her lips. Should she go and find Gillian? At the centre they were supposed to let the other children sleep and stay in bed until it was time to get up. There were no other children here. When she had lived with the family with cats the big kids had always decided what to do. With the Carlisles, baby Millie had always woken up before Lucy and Al would come and get them both for breakfast when Millie started crying. The time that she had stayed with Mike for a sleepover he said that when she was hungry she should come and jump on his bed. That was fun. Mike had made a silly pig sound before he woke up. Then he had jumped on the bed too. Then they ran around his house until Mike had stubbed his toe. After that they had cereal. Only Mike was her Big Brother and he called her kiddo and was messy. Lucy wasn't sure what Gillian was but she didn't think that jumping on her when she was sleeping was something that would be okay.

Just then, there was a little knock at the door and it opened a little. Gillian's head peeked in. Her hair was mostly pulled back and she looked happy. "Good morning, Lucy! I didn't know if you'd be awake just yet. Are you hungry?"

Lucy rubbed her belly. "Yes!"

Gillian smiled big. She opened the door all the way and stuck a hand out for Lucy. She was wearing loose, bland-coloured pyjamas. "Good. I hope you like pancakes."

Pancakes? Lucy skipped forward and took Gillian's hand. "With syrup?"

Gillian made a funny face. "Is there any other way?"

In the kitchen the smell was extra strong. Lucy's eyes widened. On the table there were two plates with pancakes, apple slices and sections of little oranges. Gillian helped her into a chair. Lucy's eyes felt googly as she looked at her plate. Blueberries were arranged in a happy face on the pancake.

"Orange juice, milk or water?" Gillian asked.

Lucy thought about it. "Juice, please!"

"Excellent choice." Gillian poured orange juice into both of their glasses.

Lucy watched as the yellow-orange liquid filled the cup. She didn't usually get to drink out of glass.

"Tell me when?" Gillian held up the syrup. Lucy nodded. Gillian tipped the little jug and drizzled syrup over Lucy's pancake. Lucy's mouth watered.

A little puddle of syrup grew like a funny nose in the blueberry face. "Now." Gillian stopped. "Yum yum!" Lucy grinned. Gillian smiled too. She sat down in the end seat next to Lucy's and tipped the syrup over her own pancake.

"Eat up, buttercup!"

Lucy giggled. Gillian said funny things. She lifted the heavy, shiny fork and used it to spread the syrup over the pancake with a wavering touch.

Gillian had put the cap back on the syrup and was cutting into her pancake. "So, Lucy, what would you like to do today?" She gave a nice smile.

Suddenly Lucy felt shy. She looked at the edge of her placemat and shrugged her shoulders.

Gillian popped a piece of pancake into her mouth. She made a thinking face as she chewed. She looked different this morning, softer. Lucy could see faint freckles spread over her face, like Lucy's only lighter and all over. Her eyes seemed lighter too, and her lips. "Well," she started, "my partner has told me that he'd like to bring some books over for us to read. Do you think you'd like that? You don't need to talk to him if you don't want to." She was looking at Lucy in a careful watching way, Lucy could see it under Gillian's smile.

Lucy thought about it. She did like books. Suddenly, she remembered laughing last night. "Your partner who doesn't eat broccoli or say please and thank you?"

Gillian looked surprised but she quickly smiled. "That's right."

Lucy tilted her head. Gillian's partner sounded funny. Maybe she would like to ask him why he didn't use manners. Only what was a partner? She looked at Gillian. "What is your partner?"

At first Gillian looked confused, then she leaned in and put down her fork, lacing her fingers together. "Well, Cal and I work together, he's my friend."

"Oh." That made sense. "What do you do for your work?"

Gillian's smile looked like the one Kathleen had made when Lucy had asked what the space between the comb sticks was called. She took a half-breath "Well, we have a company where we look at people's body language to see what they're really feeling. Their bodies tell us the truth even when their words don't."

Lucy considered. "Like a doctor?"

"More like a…" Gillian's eyes were looking blankly towards Lucy, "…truth-finder."

"Like an explorer!" That was cool. Gillian had an explorer company. "Are you the boss?" Lucy watched Gillian closely. She smiled in a way that seemed just a little proud.

"Cal and I are both the boss, that's what makes us partners."

"Oh." Lucy thought about it. That made sense. "Okay." She turned back to her pancake, using the side of her fork to cut it the way that Mike had shown her when he visited her at the cat house. She bounced a little in her chair as she lifted a big piece of pancake into her mouth. It was soft and fluffy and the syrup tasted different from the one at the the centre. The kitchen was bright and smelled of breakfast.

"So what do you think, sweetpea? Would you like for Cal to come by?" Gillian took a sip of her orange juice. The sunlight from the kitchen window glinted off the glass, making the juice glow.

Lucy cocked her head, chewing the pancake bite. Sometimes meeting new people was scary. She liked Gillian and maybe it would be nice to just stay here with her and no one else. She did like books, though. "What is he like?"

Lucy watched as Gillian finished chewing, then spoke. "He's very silly, he sometimes acts like a little kid. He has a daughter whom he loves very much. Whoa! Slow down!" Gillian was laughing as she leaned across the table, reaching out towards Lucy with open hands. Sheepishly, Lucy lowered the hand-sized piece of pancake which was dangling from her fork, shivering gently as she had tried to lower it into her mouth. "Would you like me to cut it for you, turkey?" Gillian was smiling and Lucy liked the teasing way she spoke. Lucy giggled.

"I'm not a turkey!"

Gillian laughed. "What are you, then?" Lucy laid down her fork so that Gillian could slide her plate closer. She watched as Gillian held the pancake still with the fork.

Lucy giggled again. That was a silly question. "A foster kid!"

The laughter immediately left Gillian's face. She took a short breath. Something was wrong. What had Lucy done? She felt so bad all of the sudden. Gillian looked at her seriously, but it was worried-serious, not angry-serious. "What do you mean, Lucy?"

Lucy's lip trembled. Gillian looked upset. Lucy didn't know what she meant. It's just what she was, wasn't it?

Gillian seemed to see something and her face softened back into a tiny smile. It wasn't quite right, though. "I'm sorry, Lucy. I was just surprised. You're in the foster care system but that's not what you are." Gillian turned her palm up on the table. Lucy's eyes felt wet and there was a lump in her throat. She reached out her hand to touch Gillian's. The grown-up's long fingers curled around Lucy's lightly and her other hand stroked Lucy's arm. "You're such a bright girl. You're so brave to go live with new people. You're adaptable to adjust to new situations so often. What you are is a remarkable young lady; no matter who you live with. Does that make sense?"

Lucy sniffed. It did, a little. It seemed very important to Gillian and Lucy didn't really understand why. She swallowed and nodded. Gillian's smile was better this time even though it was still a bit sad. She ran her fingers over Lucy's hair. That felt good. Then Gillian made a funny face.

"Squares or triangles?" She pulled her hands back to Lucy's plate. Lucy looked at the pancake.

"Mmm, triangles, please!"

"Triangles it is!" Gillian shot Lucy one more smile before going back to cutting up the pancake.

Lucy watched, thinking. Gillian had said that her partner had a daughter. Maybe they could play together. Maybe they would be friends. "Is she my age?"

"Who, darling?" Gillian slid Lucy's plate back across the table. The pancake was now sliced into neat little triangles.

"Your partner's daughter."

"No, she's a teenager but if you like I'm sure she'd come along to say hello. I think that you'd like her very much."

That sounded a little scary. Teenagers were even bigger than big kids. Gillian was standing up, Lucy watched her move to the fridge.

"Here," Gillian was pushing up the sleeve of the white cardigan she wore over her tan pj top and holding a photograph out to Lucy. Gillian smiled. Lucy took the picture. The paper felt heavy and it made a whoop-whoop sound when she bent it. On the shiny surface she saw Gillian. She was wearing a dark dress and her hair was shorter. She was standing next to a man with a prickly looking chin and dark hair, it looked like he had his arm wrapped around her. His other arm stuck out over the shoulders of a teenager who was a lot shorter than him and Gillian. The girl had long, curly dark brown hair and was wearing a red dress. She was pretty. Behind them was a huge Christmas tree. The best thing about the picture was the people's faces. Gillian was laughing. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she looked beautiful. The man was looking at her and smiling in the same way that Gillian smiled at Lucy. The girl was the only one looking at the camera. Her smile was like she was showing someone something funny and plain. The whole picture was so happy. Lucy looked at it carefully. Gillian was nice. She was warm and soft and smelled good and kept rainbow sprinkles. Lucy liked Gillian. If someone could make Gillian laugh and be happy then maybe she would like them too. She looked up at Gillian. "I think maybe I will say hello to them."

Gillian's eyebrows went up and she nodded her head. "Remember, it's up to you." She said.

It felt good that Gillian was letting her choose. Lucy felt more sure now. She nodded.

Gillian smiled. It was nice to see. "Great! So I was thinking that they might stop by before lunch. In the meantime I thought we could do something the two of us."

Lucy's chest felt full and excited. Doing something with Gillian sounded like fun.

"Did you like cooking yesterday?" Gillian wiped her mouth with her napkin and put it back in her lap.

Lucy remembered how nice it had felt to stand on the chair and have Gillian show her how to open the eggs. "Yeah." She swung her legs under the table.

"Well, I thought that you might like to bake something together. We could make some scones or muffins if you'd like."

"What are scones?"

Gillian put her glass back down. It was empty. She looked like she was thinking. "They're a kind of pastry, like a crunchy muffin that isn't muffin-shaped."

"That sounds tasty."

Gillian nodded. "They are."

Lucy grinned. "Could we please make those?"

She watched as Gillian's chin tipped to the side and she smiled big with her teeth all showing. "Absolutely. Let's get dressed and then we'll get right to it!"

Lucy scooted down out of her chair, hopping between her feet. She clasped her hands together and beamed up at Gillian. "Do I get to wear an apron again?"

"Oi! Em! Up you get, Lazy Mary! Day's a'wastin'!" The hall was bathed in morning light, making everything bright and clean-looking. Cal rapped his knuckles against his daughter's door. A reproachful groan was the only response. He smacked his lips and, with a jerk of his eyebrows, jolted the door open. Emily's room was painted a dark green and, with the curtains drawn, was a stark contrast to the gleaming corridor. The girl was blearily propping herself up on her elbows. Cal slouched into the room and flopped down onto the bed next to his daughter. "Mornin''"

Emily rubbed at her eyes, her face contorted into a delightful expression a confusion, sleep and frustration. "The hell, Dad? It's-" brow furrowed, she forced her eyes to focus on the alarm clock on her nightstand, "Nine-fourteen?"

Cal checked his own watch. He sniffed. "Yea, I s'ppose it is." He turned back to his teen. "Wastin' daylight, you are."

Emily ran a hand through her hair, eyes still sleepily squinted. "It's Saturday."

With a huff, Cal flipped himself up onto his side, so as to face his daughter. "We got plans."

"I know for a fact we don't."

"That's the thing about plans," he chirruped, "they change."

Emily was looking at him now. "What morning plans have you made since I went to bed last night?" Her voice carried an accusatory lilt.

He stuck the heel of his palm into his stubbly jaw, mouth hanging open as he eyed her blankly. "The kind you'll thoroughly enjoy." He drawled.

She sighed. "I doubt there's much I'd enjoy more thoroughly right now than another thirty minutes of beauty sleep."

"Right you are." Cal rolled over onto his back. "I'll just be going to meet Foster's foster kid on my own, then." With that, he lurched forwards off the bed and headed for the door.

"WHAT?!" In a fraction of a second, Emily was out of bed and hurling herself at her father. He couldn't help but laugh as she desperately entangled herself around both him and her bedsheets, which still clung to her pyjamaed form. It was short-lived, however, because in his assumptive attempt to continue goading her his foot got caught in the mess of blankets. Together, father and daughter toppled into the heap of bedding.

Cal swore exuberantly as he landed gracelessly on his flank, his daughter half on top of him. She, however, was not to be dissuaded from her mission. "You have some serious explaining to do, Dad!" Emily's wavering voice was accompanied by a firm jab to his ribs. How were her fingers so pointy?

He chortled. "Oi!"

This time she pinched him. "I'm serious, Dad, spill!"

"Fine, fine, fine! I'm talking, just stop-" he waved a hand in some obscure gesture "- pinchin' me."

Emily sat up, arms crossed, and fixed him with an expectant - and already jaded - expression.

Cal splayed his body out over the tangled mess of covers and huffed. "Well, Gill got a call yesterday from a sister organization to the one Sophie came from." He saw his daughter's face darken and tried not to read the guilt and sorrow in it. "They were poorly equipped for a storm and had nowhere warm and lit to put all the kids. They called Foster because I guess the adoption application process covers the same stuff as the foster family applications and they wanted her to take a kid for the weekend."

He was cut of by a shrill and outraged exclamation. "What?! How dare they! After taking Sophie! Tell me she didn't say yes!"

He gave her a stolid look. Emily sat cross-legged atop her comforter, her hair pulled up into a messy knot on top of her head. She had a pink line running up the side of her face; as worry started to bear its ugly head, it crossed his mind that she must have slept with her cheek pressed against her arm. Cal twitched his nose. She was wearing those ridiculous pyjamas. On the Cambridge blue shirt was a cartoon picture of a rock and a ruler, each with a little cartoon face. The rock was saying to the ruler: "You rule!" while the ruler had a speech bubble saying: "You rock!" Em had laughed and laughed when she had unwrapped the pyjamas last Christmas. They had been a gift from Cal but it had been Torres who had found them. There sat his daughter in her cartoon ruler patterned pants and Cal could have been looking at the pipsqueak of a six-year-old who had come home from school seething to tell her parents that high school students cut up frogs. The mix of fury, frustration and pain had been identical to what he now saw on the same face.

"I don't need to tell you anything, do I love?" he monotoned.

Emily scoffed. "Of course. Honestly, Gill would roll over and let her mother's murderer kick her if they asked nicely."

"Hey." Cal snapped. "Watch your mouth!"

The teenager seemed to realize the injustice in her hyperbole and she softened. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." She sighed, dropping her arms from where they had been cinched up to her chest. "It's just that the people who took her baby are the last ones who should benefit from her forgiveness."

Cal shrugged and heaved himself up into a standing position. "I don't think that's how she sees it, love." he shrugged. "Anyways, I told her that we'd be happy to drop off a few of your old picture books for them to read."

Emily popped up and tailed him as he sauntered out of her room, leaving her sheets strewn over the floor some manner of odd bed-gutting. "So it's not a baby?"

"Eh?" He ran a hand over the spot where she had pinched him. Impudent little mutineer.

His daughter gave an exasperated sigh. "Gill's foster kid, Dad. You said about the books and generally speaking, babies don't have all that much to gain from picture books."

Cal took the last three steps in one blase pace. "Nope, not a baby."

Emily skittered down the rest of the stairs, swinging around the newel post to follow him into the kitchen. "What, do I have to call Gillian to get a single detail? Come on! I know you know."

Her father stopped abruptly and popped open the fridge. "What d'ya want for breakfast?"

"This is no time for breakfast!" She looked so much like her mother when she stood with her hands on her hips like that. Apart from those two, he'd never seen anyone succeed in looking stern in in pyjamas; not that Zoe's had ever been goofy like Em's, mind. Still, what kind of father would he be if he didn't tease her mercilessly? He only had another few years before she went away to school, after all. "Goin' on half-past nine, actually."

"Dad!"

He glanced up, intending on saying something clever and flippant. Instead he saw his brilliant, mature, sixteen-year-old daughter standing in the middle of the kitchen wearing what could only be called an acutely vexed pout. Cal let out a snort and his antagonistic resolve crumbled into laughter. Straightening, he gathered his reluctant teen into a hug. "I'm sorry, Em." He laughed. Emily mumbled something into his shoulder that he was sure he was better off not hearing. Still, she mollified and, after a moment, grudgingly returned his hug.

He patted her back before she pulled away to look seriously at him. "You've had your fun, now I want to know everything you know." Catching the gleam in his eye, she cut him off, sharply adding: "About this, jackass."

"Oi!" He laughed, she knew him too well. "Just where did you pick up that foul mouth?"

"You know very well where and now you're going to tell me about Gillian's baby." She lifted her chin imperiously. Cal raised his palms in surrender, then leaned his elbows on the kitchen island as she took a seat opposite him.

He ran a hand over his prickly chin. "Mwell, Gillian is fostering a four-year-old girl called Lucy for the weekend."

The expectant expression hovered over Emily's face for a moment before melting into disbelief. She gave a bark of humourless laughter. "You strung me along for that? You don't know anything else, do you? My god, I should have known! You're unbelievable, Dad!"

Cal shrugged, straightening up and moving away from the table. "She's a kindergartener, there's not much else to know at this point. They like to colour, they've got some basic motor skills and they're remarkably easy to entertain. Foster says they cooked pasta into scrambled eggs together last night and that the lass eats broccoli. Apart from that, I doubt that Foster could tell you much more." He pauses, hand on the kettle. "Actually, I take that back. Foster's probably brimming with psycho babble by now. Cuppa?"

He heard his daughter's exasperated groan. "I can't believe I'm still surprised by you."

Cal nodded, chuckling through a lopsided grin, as he fished out the breakfast tea. Behind him, Em's chair scraped against the floor. He turned. "Oi, where're you off to?"

He saw her do that cheeky thing with her eyes where she looked pointedly away and then looked back to answer, like her motives should be blatantly obvious. "I'm going to look through our children's books and pick out the ones I think they'll like."

Her father lurched his shoulders in concession. "Fair enough. I'll enjoy my tea with the comfort of knowing I won't be pinched mercilessly."

He heard her muttering as she left the room. He smiled. Of all the people in the world, there was no one he would rather tease.

In the end, Emily compiled a stack of what must have been roughly twenty books and arrived back in the kitchen at ten past, this time fully dressed, with a bright smile and what threatened to be a frightfully long list clutched in her hand.

Cal dried his hands and threaded the cloth over the oven handle. "What's this, then?"

Emily grinned, depositing the pile of books on the kitchen island. "I got a list together of some of the things I thought we could pick up to help Gill out."

She proffered the folded paper and Cal took it, scrunching his face to read her measured hand aloud. "Child shampoo, child conditioner, step stool, colouring book, crayons, and… some adorable clothes, exclamation point." He fixed his daughter with a stare. "Adorable clothes?"

The girl sighed, "Come on, Dad! Little kids are so cute and I'm sure Gill would really appreciate it!" She cocked her head and fluttered her eyelashes at him.

Cal snorted. "Nice try, Em. Foster only has this kid for the weekend, I'm sure that she has all the clothes she needs and we don't want to buy anything that the little girl can't take back with her to the home." A dark look passed over his face at the memory of Gillian, slumped at her desk, gazing down at a little rubber giraffe following the loss of Sophie. "They should be able to manage without new clothes or a stepstool but the rest are good." He paused for a moment, then dropped a shoulder and pointed nonchalantly at the list. "And add a plastic dining set."


End file.
